Siren in the Sights
by virusq
Summary: Mordecai knew Lilith was trouble from the moment she started nit-picking the Jakobs catalog.


It started on the bus ride to Fyrestone, when Lilith was thumbing through a Jakobs Monthly magazine, licking her finger before turning each page and addressing each featured weapon with an unladylike snort.

Mordecai didn't have to lean forward to read over her shoulder; he knew exactly which guns were provoking the unpleasant grumbles because he'd had the same reactions.

There was one page, however, set right after the section on shotguns that looked like it'd been chewed out, where she wasn't disgusted: she paid extra attention to the new sniper line.

Anyone that paid that much attention to footnotes regarding magnification ratios and glass purity, when there was a full-page spread featuring Mad Moxxi's Underdome on the opposing page, was a person of interest.

He'd have to keep an eye on that one.

…

Sirens have super powers, Mordecai quickly discovered.

Lilith liked to run screaming into gaggles of unsuspecting bandits, guns blazing, with the least amount of strategy possible. It completely dashed the time and effort required to line up a perfect shot, for Mordecai. Even Brick's hopes of multi-kill explosions were shot to hell by Lilith's desire to be the center of attention.

They learned on accident, as Roland's turret grazed a few propane tanks and Bonehead's home collapsed on top of its owner and the Siren, that Lilith can phase through solid objects. She dusted herself and laughed at them, unscathed: their faces a lineup of horror, relief, and aggravation.

Mordecai's reputation as a gunman increased once the concern of friendly fire was alleviated. The two of them were out hunting when one of his shots landed too close for comfort. Lilith showed her appreciation by flooding his sight with inappropriate gestures.

"See that, man?" Mordecai asked, his feathered companion the only warm body within earshot. "I think she likes us."

Bloodwing screeched as Lilith lit up the sky, prematurely barbecuing dinner. Mordecai sighed and shifted his attention toward the opposing field. A well-trained eye spotted a subtle shift in the grass and two quick shots earned a quick death for his prey.

He dressed the kill and served dinner for the group, when they arrived back at camp. Lilith's high octane metabolism pitted her stomach against Brick's and they all had a laugh from the competition.

When they'd settled in for the night, Lilith snuck up behind Mordecai and delivered a quick peck on his cheek. "You know, for dinner and shit," she explained almost bashfully.

She phased away before he could respond.

Hunters have super powers, too: the kind that fuel hungry Sirens.

...

They found the first weapons cache of notable worth in a hole outside of the Crystal Caverns.

Lilith's affinity for elemental casting was a godsend when fighting giant rock lobsters. Crystal crabs? Whatever the hell they were, they didn't expose their fleshy bits until he was standing too close for comfort.

Bloodwing did his share of the work, but Lilith's phasewalking kept the bastards distracted. Mordecai learned to follow the tinny sound of her SMG to guide his shots. Or, more often than not, her colorful array of curses.

Of course, Lilith also proved handy to keep around for her attraction to shiny objects. Mordecai loved treasure as much as the next guy, but Lilith had a sixth sense for loot. The phasewalking came in handy for stubborn locks, too.

"I've never seen anything like it!" Lilith squealed at the contents: a handful of ammo and grenades, nestled along with a shiny blue elemental SMG and a beautiful red sniper. Both high end, for their budget anyway, and begging to be abused. Desire blazed in her eyes.

They both reached for the sniper and their fingers touched with a spark.

They stared at each other, suddenly aware of the breathing distance between them, the smell of sweat and spiderant innards stinging their nostrils. Neither of them budged, unsure of what to do.

Mordecai expected the sniper to be his and the SMG to be Lilith's. It's how it always was. The guns were practically engraved with each other's names. Except...

"Is it an upgrade?" Lilith asked, flipping her bangs out of her face with her free hand.

"Um." Mordecai would have checked, but he was honestly too afraid to let go. The Siren had proven to be grabby when it came to loot, and he wasn't prepared to forfeit both weapons. Also, any sudden moves would probably get him roasted alive.

She leaned in, just that much closer. Her bangs brushed against his jaw and her breath against his ear. "I was hoping to try something new," she whispered.

It was difficult to discern what she was really asking about, his heartbeat drumming away in his ears. Normally, he's mister cool; he made a note to look into that. "Sure," he relented, moving for the SMG. "Mine's cooler, anyway."

She was locked and loaded, firing on the run before he found an open holster. His entire body felt a bit tingly, the gun's residue energy pulsing against his palm; at least that's what he told himself.

There's always time to try something new.

...

Surrendering to Lilith's loot-hogging turned out to be a good move. She spent the next few days following Mordecai around like a shadow, adapting his sharpshooter habits and, as a benefit to all, not rampaging around the battlefield.

More importantly, it brought them together.

She laid prone, next to him in the grass, rifle lined up for a shot against her propped elbows. Her muscular arms were far more attractive than his battered tripod.

Her form was a little off, but by now he knew she didn't take to constructive criticism well. Her patience was nonexistent, too, which made for some really hair triggered attempts at sharpshooting, but the gun's powerful enough that near-misses still count for something.

Mordecai missed a few shots, too, distracted by her presence. Later, he would say it was her raucous amount of cursing, but it was really her scent and rhythmic breathing.

At any rate, she reached for the ammo box first, but hesitated. "I had no idea these things held so little ammo."

He accepted her admission as an apology for all the times she'd swept through ammo crates without checking the caliber. Bullets were always in short supply while she was blindly groping for SMG refills.

"You get used to it," he said, a rare smile threatening to crease his face.

She reached again but missed the ammo crate entirely, fingers brushing against his cheekbone, tracing the outline of his mask. "Ever get tired of the mask?"

"Not until you mention it," he answered, swallowing a protest as she abandoned the rifle entirely to cup his face.

As soon as her fingers hooked under the leather, he stalled her hands with his own. A protest formed on his tongue, but she stopped it. Their lips met, gingerly at first, but then his razor sharp senses were engulfed with her presence. His fingers fumbled through her hair as hers curled in his jacket.

Unfortunately, their chemistry burned a hole in the supportive line. Roland's order for backup grounded them both; Brick had gone berserk to compensate for the lack of aerial support, which only compounded the problem.

Mordecai and Lilith snapped back into firing positions. Flustered, Mordecai laid down enough fire to compensate for their missing minutes. How could he have possibly let himself get so distracted? Lives were at stake!

Later, when the team reunites and Roland approaches, Mordecai expects to be dressed down with the fury of 1,000 lances. Instead, the Soldier elbowed him in the ribs.

"Sounds like that sharing thing went well."

...

The lights of New Haven glittered to life above them, as Brick kicked the last transformer into submission. The citizens celebrated by offering food, booze, and clean sheets, and everyone was appreciative to some extent. Roland managed some rest while Brick got the natives to drunkenly korobushka. Lilith's idea of celebrating involved a bottle of whiskey and the complete destruction of some poor villager's bedroom; Mordecai enjoyed that part the best.

Mordecai was amused to discover that Lilith radiates heat like a newborn phoenix, every inch of skin warm and soft. Her fingers snaked up against his mask and, this time, he didn't stop her. The goggles and leather slid off his head, revealing his eyes and, before he could ask what she thinks, her kiss reminds him it doesn't matter.

When she came up for air, she took a drink from the bottle of whiskey and offered it to him. He accepted, propping back against the pillows and taking a long pull. They're sharing now: that's progress.

She waited for him to relax before clapping her hands together excitedly and reaching under the bed. He's nervous, at first, horrified at what surprise she has in store, but surprise was never in her elemental wheelhouse.

She produced a sniper rifle, intricately wrapped in hot pink and complete with a large ruffly bow. "Open it," she begged excitedly, pressing it into his hands. "You'll never guess what it is!"

Mordecai arched a bushy eyebrow and slowly peeled back the paper, revealing a Maliwan Paradigm PPZ, electric green and still slick with machine oil. "Holy shit, is this... is this the new line?"

"Brisk, just the way you like it." Lilith beamed, eyes almost glowing in the ambient light. She took the gun from his hands and held it up with military precision, biceps accented against the metal. "With vitriolic shells, for that lingering memory."

"Oh, babe. I don't know what to say..."

And he didn't have to: his mouth had better things to worry about.


End file.
